


Smut Prompts off Tumblr

by tisfan



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-13
Updated: 2019-07-11
Packaged: 2020-05-07 09:57:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19207048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tisfan/pseuds/tisfan
Summary: Tony and Bucky, "kinky"





	1. Back Row, Double Feature

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MarvelousMenagerie (HiddenOne)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HiddenOne/gifts), [whistlingwindtree](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whistlingwindtree/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony and Bucky, "kinky"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> public sex, oral sex, dirty talk

“If this movie doesn’t get any better,” Bucky said, leaning close to Tony and whispering huskily in his ear, “I’mma get on my knees in th’ fuckin’ back row and blow you.”

“Kinky,” Tony said, giving the knee in question a quick squeeze, feeling the heat of Bucky’s skin under the denim. “I don’t know that I’ve ever hoped for a bad movie before.” He did a casual sweep of the theater; a handful of teenagers in the front row who were mostly throwing popcorn at each other. A couple that had staggered in ten minutes into the show, probably taking advantage of the theater’s sub-zero air conditioning. They had that fourteenth floor walk up look to them. “The floor’s probably filthy.”

“Yeah, so? Not as filthy as what I’mma do to you, doll,” Bucky said, apparently taking it as a challenge. “Gonna get those slacks open and down to your thighs, want you to feel the fabric of that seat cushion under your ass, the way it prickles just a bit. Hands up your shirt, down your thighs. Get those pants around your ankles, your knees spread for me.”

“Oh, god,” Tony choked, putting one hand over his mouth and trying to pretend like he was enjoying the film. Tony’s dick jumped with interest, throbbed and pressure started building in his spine.

Bucky whispered his name, dark and sinful in the theater, a threat and a promise all at once. With passion, until Tony was thrumming with anticipation. Bucky nuzzled at his mouth once, then disappeared onto the floor, hands busy with Tony’s belt.

Well, it wouldn’t be the first time he’d gotten thrown out of a public venue, although generally, theater employees were receptive to bribes.

Bucky didn’t waste time, either, getting Tony out of the vee in his slacks.

Tony let himself sink into the seat a little, spreading his legs as wide as he could to give Bucky room to work. One metal hand on the side of his thigh, the right hand going up Tony’s shirt to tease at his nipples, already hard and aching in the chilly air.

Bucky licked and sucked, desire driving him to urgent thrusts, taking Tony down to the root, tongue writhing over feverish skin. Taking Tony as deep as he could, sucking the air out of his cheeks to form a hot, velvet clutch. Tony’s hands clenched in Bucky’s hair, pulling wildly, the movement of his hands the only outlet he had.

He let out a breathy little whine as Bucky licked, sucked, teased. Finally found the rhythm that brought them both up to the edge. Bucky made soft, humming sounds in his throat, completely lost under the pounding pulse of the movie’s soundtrack, but vibrating down Tony’s cock and straight into his balls.

Tony didn’t bother to try to hold back or slow down. The longer it went on, the more risk they had of being discovered. He rocked against Bucky’s perfect mouth until he shuddered and spilled over.

Bucky stayed with him the whole time, swallowing frantically, and then licked Tony the rest of the way clean, until Tony was shoving him away, overstimulated.

Bucky’s smirk was completely obvious as he slid back into his chair.

“That was--”

“I agree.”

Bucky reached over and took Tony’s hand, prim and proper.

Tony wasn’t fooled. He twitched his fingers over Bucky’s thigh, eliciting a strained groan.

Well, intermission was over. Time to get Bucky to the closing credits.

 


	2. Scouting Trip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony needs to be quiet, there's Scouts around...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hand job, semi-public sex, references to Hydra!Cap (not really, but... look, I made a joke about Hydra Cap, so if that upsets you, don't read this.)

"You're kidding, right?" Tony demanded in a furious whisper.

Bucky didn't answer that, he just smirked and those wicked fingers of his squirmed a little closer along the inside of Tony's thigh. That was almost uncomfortable, since Tony had his legs squeezed together.

He was tempted to open them, just to make space for Bucky's hand, but he also didn't particularly trust Bucky not to take advantage of the situation.

Which, of course, was the whole point.

"We are surrounded by Scouts!"

Which was also true.

And while the Future Scouts were, in fact, the kids of various SHIELD agents and other superheroes, and therefore aware that they were being used as bait, that didn't mean most of them weren't still twelve!

"You are a menace!"

Bucky hummed softly against Tony's neck, inching his fingers better Tony's thighs, fingertips finding the base of Tony's balls. Tony moaned into his thin, standard issue pillow.

Honestly, if he had to admit it, the whole thing was his fault. Camping was not exciting. He'd complained. A lot.

Even if they were camped out specifically to draw Hydra into the open.

Two prize Hydra Assets out in the open… hard to resist.

"If Hydra shows up while you're trying to get a piece," Tony said, "you are going to feel sooo guilty."

"They won't come out tonight," Bucky said. "They like to have a plan. Shhhh. We're surrounded by kids."

Tony groaned again and let his legs slip a little wider.

Bucky promptly slid his hand into the offered gap, getting his whole palm over Tony's dick. Sweatpants did not provide and shielding at all, and it was obvious how hard he was as soon as Bucky touched him.

"Nice," Bucky murmured. "Raise up, just a bit."

And then Tony was pulling his knees up a little, giving Bucky a clear field to rub and stroke and tease.

It wouldn't be the first time Tony had snuck a hand job at a kid's event, but the last time, he'd practically still been a kid.

Every few strokes, Bucky would remind him that he needed to be quiet. Needed to be good. He was so good. Tony drifted on pleasure, just letting it happen, relaxing into it.

When he did, finally, come, explosive and white hot, Tony all but bit through the pillow, squeezing it out.

"There you are, darling," Bucky crooned. "So perfect."

" _Menace_ ," Tony repeated, sleepily. He was drifting off now, soaking into the warm bed, sinking into sleep.

Which, of course, was the moment the alarm sounded.

"I thought you said Hydra needed a _plan_ ," Tony grumbled, post-coital bliss making him stupid and slow.

"Well," Bucky said, shrugging, unrepentant. "Maybe that's Steve."


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pepper and Tony have some kiss and make up to do...

“We’re going to _practice_ ,” Pepper said, firmly.

“Honey--”

“Just say it,” Pepper said.

“I understand that we’re going to practice the communication technique recommended by your therapist,” Tony said.

“Our therapist,” Pepper corrected.

“Our therapist,” Tony said. “This is ridiculous, honey.”

“It’s obviously not, since I said ‘I need to take a vacation, by myself,’ and you heard ‘we’re breaking up, I never want to see you, let me go impale myself on Captain America’s shield.’”

“I understand,” Tony said, “that you think this is funny.”

“No, Tony, I don’t think it’s funny,” Pepper said. “But if I don’t laugh about it, I might cry. Or throw something at you.”

“Throwing something at me is probably more fun.”

“You think so, do you?” She made an imperious gesture and marched into their bedroom. Tony didn’t really have a choice but to follow her.

“I can’t believe you can make jokes about Rogers,” Tony muttered. Normally, that was the sort of thing that Pepper got hysterical about, shrieking at him about how his overinflated… something… ego, sense of responsibility, recklessness, whatever… was going to get him killed.

It very nearly had. He was, in fact, still wearing the hospital bracelet, and he was pretty sure that he still had bruises. And maybe stitches. He wasn’t sure. Helen’s reconstructive surgery techniques were pretty awesome. He felt bruised, though. Bruised and battered and beaten. A whole lot of B words, really.

“Rogers is a joke,” Pepper said.

“I understand Rogers is a joke,” Tony repeated. That may or may not have been true. Or even fair, but at the moment, Rogers was a wanted war criminal and Tony was being tarred with the same brush. Ross didn’t believe for a hot minute that Tony didn’t know where they were.

Finally, Pepper and a whole battery of lawyers had landed on Ross’s head, and while Tony was never going to be on Ross’s most trusted list, he was at least also not going to jail.

“So, we’re going to practice better communication skills, so you don’t feel the need to take on two supersoldiers in order to impress me,” Pepper said. “And next time we break up, you’ll be sure.”

“Next time?”

“Tony, it’s us,” Pepper said. “Now, we’re trying, and I do love you, which makes this whole thing worth trying. I want things to work out. You want things to work out. But we come at the world from fundamentally different points of view. We need to meet somewhere in the middle, because I’m never going to be a superhero.”

Well, shows what she knew. “You already are my hero, Pep,” Tony said.

She softened toward him suddenly, and Tony felt that whisper thin breath of relief that said maybe, just maybe, the apology part of the whole thing was over, and he could do back to trying to do better. Even if he never really understood what that was, or what she wanted from him, or how he could be better, when he was, fundamentally, a broken person.

Maybe that was what the better communication was supposed to be about; figuring out what she wanted and needed so that he could be that, instead of discovering the ten thousand ways it _didn’t work_.

“So, we’re going to start with positive reinforcement,” Pepper said. “You tell me if you understand.”

“I understand,” Tony said. He was a smart guy, he could figure it out, right? It wasn’t that he didn’t understand women, he wasn’t one of those guys. He knew women were each different and autonomous creatures, maybe even more so than men, each with their own wants and desires. It wasn’t that he didn’t understand women; it was that he didn’t really understand… _people_.

“Tony, I would like you to come over here and kiss me,” Pepper said.

That was easy enough, Tony’d been wanting to kiss her since she showed up with the lawyer cadre.

She got a hand on his face before his lips made contact. “Pep, what the hell?”

“Say it.”

_Oh._

“I understand that you would like me to kiss you,” Tony said.

“Very good,” Pepper said, and she kissed him. Which was close enough for government work. Her mouth was waxy with her lipstick, lips warm, teeth hard little squares under her lip. She didn’t open her mouth to him, just let her lips mold against his, her hands coming up to play with the ends of his hair.

Pepper pulled back, absently brushing a strand of her strawberry blonde hair out of her face. “You’re allowed to want things, too, Tony,” she said.

“I understand that I’m--” Tony trailed off, looking at her.

“You don’t understand that, do you?”

Tony took a deep breath. Theoretically, yes. He knew he was allowed to want things, and sometimes he even got them. They just… tended to come with a lot of baggage and consequences.

“Were you listening to Doctor Zabur at all?”

“Uh, no, not really,” Tony admitted. “I remember the bit about the puzzle pieces.” That he and Pepper were like pieces of a puzzle, but that they only needed to fit together _on one side_. Pepper couldn’t be everything to him, and it was unreasonable for him to expect that. But that it was also unreasonable for him to think he could make all his flaws and foibles match up to hers. They only needed to match on one side, and they were multidimensional people.

“Well, that’s good, that’s important,” Pepper said. “But the rest of it was important, too. Tony, baby, I… I think the part of this that you missed, the really, really important part? You deserve good things, too.”

“Yeah, no, I mean, I know that,” Tony said. Didn’t he have more than his share of good things? Everything else seemed too much. He had money, fame, power, tolerable good looks-- asking for more just seemed… wrong.

“Tony--”

Tony heaved a breath. “Why do I have to say it?”

“Because saying a thing makes it true,” Pepper said.

Tony snorted.

“No, no, don’t laugh,” Pepper said. “It… it does. I mean, there’s all sorts of psychological science behind it, and it’s not perfect, or even perfectly understood, but part of being able to move past a thing is being able to give it a name, and part of something becoming true is saying it. Belief comes later. But first, you have to say it. Give it a name. You, Tony Stark, you deserve good things. Not because you earned them, or because you give back, even if both of those things are also true. But because you are a human being, just like the rest of us, and human beings deserve good things.”

She poked him in the chest a few times as she said those things. “You deserve good things.”

“I understand that I deserve good things,” Tony said. That did not make it true. He could jump up and down and declare himself Captain Kangaroo, and that didn’t make that true, either.

“Great,” Pepper said, and she was smiling with that same, wistful fondness that she frequently seemed to have, and Tony was thinking, maybe, just maybe, things were going to be all right. “I want you to kiss me again.”

“I understand you want me to kiss you,” Tony said, and this time he paused, not because he was uncertain, but, “and I want you to do it properly.”

“Properly?” Her eyebrow went up.

“Tongue and everything,” Tony teased.

“I understand you want…” and she was blushing, how the hell? Pepper was so very seldom anything but cool and in control.

“Go on, then, Miss Smartypants,” Tony said. “Say it.”

“I understand you want me to kiss you,” she said. “Tongue and everything.”

And so he kissed her, letting his tongue slide in to taste her mouth, feeling the way her body pressed against his, curvy and soft where he was harsh muscle and calloused skin. The way her breathing sped up, and the way his heart rate revved to match it.

“Take me to bed, Tony,” she said.

“I understand take you to bed,” Tony said. He didn’t think he’d understood anything quite so well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/n this turned out to be more couples therapy than smutty, but I hope you’ll like it anyway.


	4. Spies Like Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grouping: Natasha Romanoff/Bucky Barnes/Tony Stark
> 
> Warning: Voyeurism, Vaginal Sex, No Orgasm
> 
> Summary: Tony’s private space has been invaded. Again. JARVIS, show camera six please.

Tony hadn’t bothered to file a flight plan with Avengers Tower. He sometimes had JARVIS let people know when he was going to be in, but if Tony didn’t have to do something responsible, changes were good he wasn’t going to bother.

He did enough by the book with the whole _saving of the day_  shit

He’d been off doing a patrol over Miami – Florida Man bullshit, but with AIM backing them up – and was flying in manual rather than letting JARVIS pilot, needing something to think about so he didn’t fall asleep.

The gates to the workshop weren’t open. There were no alarms triggered, even the ones that Tony kept on the down low rather than building alerts.

But he felt like… his space had been  _invaded_  somehow. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but he flicked the indicator for stealth flight and came in to a quick landing.

“JARVIS, pull up the vid feeds for the last – how long have I been gone?”

“Nineteen hours, sir,” JARVIS replied. “I would suggest that you might wish to–”

“Yeah let me see camera six…” that was a new camera install, leaving one of the suits watching the room at all times.

He flicked through – ahhh there they were.

Spies. What could you do?

Bucky and Natasha were still in combat gear; there hadn’t been any action while Tony was on patrol in Florida. JARVIS would have told him, even if it was something simple. Which meant it was probably a training exercise.

Both Bucky and Nat loved to train, almost, Tony thought, more than they loved anything else, including, perhaps, each other.

Maybe not.

Nat had hopped up on Tony’s workshop table, not far from where the present-moment Tony stood, and spread her legs, showing off the taught thighs.

Bucky was saying something, but Tony hadn’t hooked in sound; not yet, at any rate. The way Nat laughed, Tony thought he might add that in. Usually, if someone was breaking into Tony’s lab, he could guess well enough what they were saying. He’d heard enough villain monologues in his lifetime.

They were rough with each other in a way that made Tony’s blood surge in his veins. Bucky grabbed a handful of Nat’s armor and yanked, the buttons went flying. Absently, Tony dipped a hand into DUM-E’s bin and pulled one of the buttons out.

On the screen, Nat was bending backward, her spine forming a perfect arc, breasts straining against the padded material of her bra – bulletproof, and supportive, Tony had designed the damn thing himself. She’d been grateful.

And here was Bucky, tearing it off her, bruising the pale skin, exposing peaked nipples. Note to self: improve materials for tear-resistant fasteners. Buttons were clearly not cutting it.

Nat wrapped her arms around Bucky’s neck, bringing him down until his mouth fastened on one lovely breast, licking at the nipple until she was obviously crying out, but leaving the other entirely exposed, untouched, aching for his fingers, his mouth, until Tony was leaning forward, as if he’d take the nipple himself.

“Give the girl a break, Barnes,” Tony said. He sent a quick command to the suit, letting it fold itself around him, until he was standing there, bare toes against the floor of his workshop, which was a little chilly, but on the other hand, it left him free to adjust himself. The suit was hot as fuck, sexy as shit, but a little snug in the bits, when there was extra blood flow.

Somewhere in there, they’d managed to shuck most of their clothes, so Nat had bare legs wrapped around Bucky’s naked back (she was still wearing one sock, and Tony found that oddly endearing, and Bucky’s pants were down around his ankles as he thrust into the very willing woman in front of him.

Tony shrugged, unzipped the undersuit, and rubbed fitfully at his cock. Somehow, it seemed unfair that they’d decided to engage in activities  _right there on his desk_. And he was certainly going to tell them so–

Bucky took a step backward, pulling out, showing off Nat’s flushed slit, the little bud not much more than a white patch of pixels – Tony really needed to invest in a better camera system, really, if they were going to carry on like that.

Nat made a face, saying something – probably a demand to get back there and finish the job. Bucky was shaking, his thighs quivering.

How could he just stand there, looking at her, desperate as she obviously was?

Nat reached between her legs, as if she was going to finish herself off, which obviously, Tony didn’t blame her; he could practically feel her throbbing.

And then–

He squinted, leaned closer.

She was holding a piece of paper between her spread thighs.

_We Dont Come until YOU do. Welcome Home Iron Man._

Bucky turned around to face the camera, holding a second piece of paper in front of his cock.

**Get your ASS upstairs.**

Oh. Well, in that case.

“JARVIS, hold all my calls.”

“As always, sir.”


	5. Ticket to Ride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daisy and Robbie get busy on a long, boring bus trip

“I’m sure I don’t understand why we need to take _the bus_ ,” Robbie said, like the dirty, ancient Greyhound was some sort of scourge on the automotive world. Okay, so… it kinda was, but--

“Because the information we’ve got says that the girl takes the bus back and forth,” Daisy said. They were in search of yet another Inhuman who might give them support. Or at least, who needed to be protected from groups like the WatchDogs.

“So we have to ride the bus all the way from Phoenix to Sacramento,” Robbie pointed out. “Which is at least fifteen hours?”

“We don’t know where she gets on the bus,” Daisy said.

“And what if we’re on the wrong bus?”

“What would you rather do, show up all burning skull and chains in the Hellcharger?”

“Might be fun?”

“Yeah, get some sleep,” Daisy said, stretching as much as she could in the narrow seat. They were only three hours into their trip, so sleep… well, even if the girl got on the bus while she was asleep, there’d be plenty of time to spot her.

It wasn’t like they were going anywhere.

“Here,” Robbie said, and he shifted the armrest up so that Daisy could sleep against his shoulder, his arm around her side, fingers resting on her hip. Which was a lot better.

Except Robbie kept shifting his fingers, wormed his hand under her shirt and was lightly brushing over the tender skin on her side, sending warm shivers up her spine. Her skin would break out in a ripple of gooseflesh, tingling her nerves and then she would start to drift off again. He’d change the tempo of his strokes, just little feather-light touches.

“What are you doing?” she hissed at him.

Robbie kissed her hair. “Having a little fun,” he said. “Hush now, no one will notice.”

“You’re a bad boy, Robbie Reyes,” she told him.

“You knew what I was when you took me to bed the first time,” he said. “Bad to the bone.”

Robbie pulled her tighter against him, and he let his breath tickle her ear. She tipped her head and he took immediate advantage, pressing his lips to her skin. His hand moved until he found the button to her jeans. Daisy grumbled, but pulled the little blanket out of the seat pocket in front of her, spreading it over her lap, so he could do as he pleased and no one would see them.

Daisy had no doubt that he’d give those fierce, Rider stares to anyone who bothered them, but there was no reason to freak out the normals and blow their cover.

She also had no doubt that if she wasn’t actually interested, if she didn’t want to, or wasn’t sure, or just didn’t want to mess around in public that all it would take was a single word from her, or even a look, and Robbie would stop.

But as it was, she was interested, and as it was, they never got enough time for themselves.

They shifted around again until Robbie was leaning against the window, one leg across both seats, Daisy fitted neatly in the vee of his powerful thighs. “There we go, girlfriend,” he told her, “just like that.”

Robbie played his fingers over her thighs, ran his nails along the seam of her jeans, pressed a finger right between her legs. The bus’s vibrations did… interesting things with that. Daisy stifled a soft sound and pretended to sleep.

They were tiny movements, each twitch of his fingers. Daisy squirmed a little in his lap, letting her thighs spread as much as she could. Robbie managed to get her jeans open, and long narrow fingers slid into the opening. She rocked her hips up once and his fingers skated over the silk of her drawers.

It wasn’t enough, and what’s more, Robbie knew it. He used the slick fabric to tease, to rub, to wind her tighter, but she wasn’t getting there, and she could sense his smug grin. Daisy pushed herself deeper into his embrace, put her mouth against his arm, her thighs spread like a wanton. Concentrated.

Sent a tiny jolt of her power into the bus, causing it to rattle like it hit the grooves on the side of the road set to keep drivers awake on long trips.

Robbie’s fingers pressed harder as the bus driver swerved the massive bus closer to the center line.

Ah, there!

She arched her hips a little and Robbie’s fingers moved at the same time.

All the heat in her body fled in a rush, leaving her sheathed in gooseflesh and cold sweat. Every muscle in her body tightened to unbearable levels, and then let go. Her body flooded with hormones and she stiffened in his arms, toes curled tight in her boots.

She hitched in a breath, on the very edge of a scream, and managed to stifle it against Robbie’s bicep.

“Cheater,” Robbie scolded. She could feel his dick, snug in those tight black jeans, pressed against her lower back. She wriggled, shifting her weight and brushing against it, feeling the way Robbie’s hips moved in reaction.

“You love it,” she told him.

“Uh-huh, you know it, girlfriend.” He tugged his hand out of her pants and she squirmed a little, zipping up. “Next stop, we’re getting off the bus so I can _stretch my legs_.”

“Whatever you say, sweetie,” Daisy said, letting her eyes drift shut. “Now, be quiet, I’m sleeping.”


	6. Ticket to Ride, Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The bus stops and Robbie and Daisy get out to stretch their legs.
> 
> For Fierysky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sex while standing  
> Sex in a church  
> somewhat blasphemous  
> Vaginal sex  
> quickie

San Bernardino Greyhound Bus station looked remarkably like every other bit of that part of California that they’d already been through. Dry, dusty, the occasional defiant palm tree giving the middle finger to the sky and the unrelenting heat.

The display on Robbie’s phone showed that it was in the high nineties, headed straight for a “climate change is a political issue” temperature of 104 by two o’clock.

“I’ve been to hell,” Robbie said, easing back in the seat. “It was cooler, there.”

“You’ve made that joke before,” Daisy told him. 

The driver pulled down his little radio and announced to the bus at large that they were stopping for forty minutes, if anyone wanted to get out and stretch, there was an In-and-Out burger place right down the street, and convenience store on the other side.

“Come on,” Robbie said, grabbing Daisy’s wrist. He tugged her up the aisle and off the bus. It was, in fact, hot as hell. Heat smoked up from the pavement like an illusion of water, and the air was dry and smelled vaguely like _gobernadora_ \-- a yellow flowering bush that was sometimes used in herbal medicine and carried the odor of creosote. He paused on the pavement, searching the area with both eyes and the vague demonic presence in his head. 

The Rider, of course, had been everywhere before.

_There._

“What are we doing?”

“Stretching our legs, didn’t you hear the man, girlfriend?” Robbie asked.[] He led her across the street, through an unremarkable section of dying grass and scrub. And put his hand on the door.

“Church? You’re taking me to church?”

“Something like that,” Robbie said. The various myths and legends that said demons couldn’t go into churches were pretty much full of crap. God had Her eye on something else; that’s what demons and angels were for. Punishment or rewards for the humans that were under God’s domain.

Whatever that meant. Robbie hadn’t gotten much into philosophy with the demon that rode in him, that sometimes took over, and that Punished the Guilty (complete with capital letters and possibly quotation marks, too.)

But what it did mean was that he had access to Holy Ground under any circumstances. As long as the church had been properly consecrated, Robbie could enter.

He pushed the door and it opened at his touch. Robbie could smell the unrepentant and the sinners from the small room; the way sin moved, swirled in the air. Churches, strange as it seemed sometimes, were refuges for those who committed mortal sins against their fellows. The place where they could move unseen, go unpunished.

It was the same miasma that Robbie had become accustomed to since taking on his unwelcome guest. 

Sinners.

The corrupt.

The ones who deserved Judgement.

But it was old, a few days at least. No one sinful had been here since Sunday, probably. Which meant it wasn’t the preacher, so that was a relief, at any rate. Robbie hated with the Rider hijacked him and went hunting.

For now, he had a willing woman in his arms, and a powerful need to do a little bit of sinning, himself.

The church was dark, no lights were on, and while multicolored lights streamed in through the stained glass windows, there was something private and perfect about it.

“Get out of those pants, girlfriend,” Robbie told her.

Daisy’s perfect body went still for just a moment, and then she shivered and obliged him, unsnapping, unzipping and wiggling out of too-tight denim. She smelled of sweat, her own and others, from the long bus ride, the church of faded incense and old books, Robbie himself smelled of sulfur and motor oil. It was a heady combination.

Robbie followed suit, getting his denims around his thighs, cock springing free from his boxers as he shoved them down ungracefully.

Once she had one leg out of her jeans, Robbie couldn’t wait any longer. He lifted her up and planted that bare, perfect ass against the wall.

“Don’t you dare let go of me,” she told him, wriggling around to get comfortable, to feel secure.

Without clothes to buffer then, Robbie felt like he was burning up, just skin on skin, and he was devoured by flames. Inside him, the Rider stirred a little, interested, the way the demon was always interested. 

Daisy tightened her legs and kept her arms wrapped tight around his neck, embracing him, and the contradictions that lived inside him. Demon and lover, human and immortal. Damned and retribution.

And she loved him.

She looked at him with tender affection, with love, with need and desire; as a creature who’d only been gazed upon with hate and fear before, and Robbie himself rarely much more than contempt or the ersatz heat of a one-night stand. Daisy was perfect, gorgeous, brave, daring. Worth every bit of effort it would take for the Rider to be able to forgive her, worth everything.

Greedily, Daisy ran one hand over his back, fingernails digging at his shoulders. 

“I can’t wait any longer,” he told her, kissing her neck, her ear, the side of her chin.

Robbie got himself lined up, lifted her a little until she pushed back against the wall, using her position to brace herself. 

“Do it, then!”

Robbie responded as if she’d smacked his ass with a crop, jolting forward, impaling her on his cock. She arched her body, bitting at her lip to muffle a cry. Her head went back, skull thumping against the wall as he plunged up and into her. She was hot, wet, a little sticky from their earlier tryst. He was blinded by it, the brilliant dazzle of sun from one of the stained glass windows, and also from Daisy herself. She was so lovely he could barely breathe, so perfect his heart nearly stopped beating.

She killed him. Every single time, and then her kisses would bring him back to life.

The mounting pleasure was so great, he could barely speak, just hold her up and work inside her, his hips rolling. He loved it, loved her. Loved it all. Daisy brought her mouth down, kissed him, urged him harder, deeper, more. Pistoning his hips with a fury and dexterity that he never would have managed before the Rider.

And there it was, that singular, perfect moment where he left gravity behind.

The climax took him, completely. He cried out, or she did, he couldn’t tell anymore, and the Rider was there, in the back of his head, watching, like always. 

Maybe not loving Daisy, but loving _with_ Robbie. Accepting her.  

She clawed at him, beyond speaking, and Robbie gave her everything she needed. Everything in him, until she joined him somewhere on that summit.

Everything, in one chaotic, passionate embrace.

Slowly, Daisy let her legs loosen and Robbie had to pull out, and bend his knees a little to set her on the floor.

She made a face as their loving dripped down one thigh, the smell of their exertions strong in the air. “Blech,” she said. “You got a kleenex or something?”

Robbie gave her a look, but then dug around in his jacket and found a car rag. It was… mostly clean. Daisy sighed, folded it a few times and tidied herself up. She leaned in, kissed him lightly on the mouth. “If the bus left without us, I am going to be very cross. Just as soon as I come down off this hormone buzz.”

In part of his frontal lobe, Robbie could feel the Hellcharger there, revving her engine and waiting for her Rider to call her. “If the bus left without us I might throw a party. We can find this Inhuman of yours in the comfort of bucket seats and better air conditioning.”

Daisy said. “I want to find this girl, not scare her to death.”

Robbie spread his hands. “Okay. Maybe we can grab a burger before we get back on the damn bus, though?”

Daisy sighed. “Sure, sure, you get food, I’ll hold the bus.”

“Love you, girlfriend,” Robbie said.

“Love you, too.”


End file.
